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The lady comes to the gate dressed in lavender and leather |
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Looking north to the sea she finds the weather fine |
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She hears the steeple bells ringing through the orchard |
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All the way from town |
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She watches seagulls fly, silver on the ocean |
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Stitching through the waves, the edges of the sky |
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Many people wander up the hills from all around you |
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Making up your memories and thinking they have found you |
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They cover you with veils of wonder as if you were a bride |
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Young men holding violets are curious to know if you have cried |
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And tell you why and ask you why any way you answer |
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Lace around the collars of the blouses of the ladies |
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Flowers from a Spanish friend of the families |
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The embroid'ry of your life holds you in and keeps you out but you survive |
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Imprisoned in your bones behind the isinglass windows of your eyes |
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And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain |
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Down the hills through the long grass to the sea |
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And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain |
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Come away alone |
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Even now by the gate with your long hair blowing |
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And the colors of the day that lie along your arms |
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You must barter your life to make sure you are living |
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And the crowd that has come, you give them the colors |
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And the bells and wind and the dream |
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Will there never be a prince who rides along the sea and the mountains |
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Scattering the sand and foam into amethyst fountains |
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Riding up the hills from the beach in the long summer grass |
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Holding the sun in his hands and shattering the isinglass? |
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Day and night and day again the people come and go away forever |
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While the shining summer sea dances in the glass of your mirror |
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While you search the waves for love and your visions for a sign |
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The knot of tears around your throat is crystallizing into your design |
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And in the night the iron wheels rolling through the rain |
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Down the hills through the long grass to the sea |
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And in the dark the hard bells ringing with pain |
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Come away alone, come away alone with me |
